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 August 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....

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Tymber

Tymber

Posts : 879
Join date : 2015-05-06
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PostSubject: August 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....   August 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc.... EmptySun Aug 02, 2020 3:04 am

August 2020 Grab Bag is ready to be filled!

Stories, poetry, artwork, whatever your talent to share - must be ElfQuest themed - and may contain canon ElfQuest characters (Cutter, Leetah, Skywise, etc) or custom characters of your own (as long as it's in the "ElfQuest" universe).

Your submissions should include at least one of these things (for art), and at least 3 of the 5 for stories (but let's see you use all five!)

Stories can be as long as you want them to be.

The items for this month's grab bag are:
1. Change (however you want to use it; whether that's someone changing, or change as in coin, etc)
2. Meditation, either the actual practice or someone sitting and thinking of something.
3. Falling down (can be persons, or things, or more symbolically)
4. Innocence
5. Sea

___________________________________________________
August 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc.... Ba_tym10
Signature image by Embala. <3


Last edited by Tymber on Sun Aug 02, 2020 1:37 pm; edited 1 time in total
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Yeee

Yeee

Virgo Tiger
Posts : 921
Join date : 2019-08-10
Age : 46
Location : germany

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PostSubject: Re: August 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....   August 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc.... EmptySun Aug 02, 2020 5:57 am

Next topic for the Grab bag , before we start:
Sea , yup, must be Laughing
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Tymber

Tymber

Posts : 879
Join date : 2015-05-06
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PostSubject: Re: August 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....   August 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc.... EmptySun Aug 02, 2020 1:36 pm

@Yeee wrote:
Next topic for the Grab bag , before we start:
Sea , yup, must be Laughing

You will want to do that in the Build A Grab Bag Submission Thread. Smile
https://fathertreeholt.forumotion.com/t149p375-build-a-grab-bag-for-the-month

But since no one has written anything yet - I can add it to this month. Smile

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August 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc.... Ba_tym10
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Yeee

Yeee

Virgo Tiger
Posts : 921
Join date : 2019-08-10
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Location : germany

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PostSubject: Re: August 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....   August 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc.... EmptySun Aug 02, 2020 4:34 pm

done!
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Tymber

Tymber

Posts : 879
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PostSubject: Re: August 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....   August 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc.... EmptyMon Aug 03, 2020 2:17 am

An emotional farewell of some characters...

1. Change (however you want to use it; whether that's someone changing, or change as in coin, etc)
2. Meditation, either the actual practice or someone sitting and thinking of something.
3. Falling down (can be persons, or things, or more symbolically)
4. Innocence
5. Sea


Stonehowl’s extensive history recap for all the previous grab bags can be found here:
http://www.tawmis.com/stonehowl/stonehowlrecap.html


The seasons bring change.

The white fall brings cold that covers the land; couples embrace, sharing their bodies, sharing their warmth. Daystar’s Gaze brings heat; where people seek shelter from the warm rays that can often times feel relentless during the day, with nights that bring a chill to the tender and exposed skin. In between, the leaves fall, and the plants bloom.

The seasons always bring change.

It was less barely into the Daystar’s Gaze, when Spearclaw and Snowcloud announced that they would be returning to their people in the plains; in hopes that their own clan – the Pridewalkers – have managed to survive after the death of their own Chief – their Sire. Windfetcher knew this had been brewing for some time. While Spearclaw deeply cared for Stillbreeze, there was no Recognition – and over time, he knew she could never care for him as much as she cared for Vineweaver, despite the three of them sharing their furs. Snowcloud had hoped to find adventure; but in many cases, all she had found was violence and death, like she was not accustomed to and in those violent moments, she lost the last remaining bits of innocence she’d retained. She’d wanted to return to the plains for quite some time; and Spearclaw’s desire to leave was exactly what she’d needed. Whether or not she truly cared for him, or deep down knew that perhaps she got close to him after he left Stillbreeze, in hopes of manipulating his desire to return to the plains, remains unknown – even to her.

But that would not be the only change. The turning of full seasons passed, several times over, when the biggest change of all came.

Vineweaver clasped the arm of Shadow. “Are you sure about this?”

Shadow smiled. “I am. My bones are old, my friend.”

“We will keep an eye on her as if she were my own,” Vineweaver clasped his chief close.

“I’ve seen how you raised your cubs; I believe she is in best hands,” Shadow said, pulling back after the embrace and placing his hand on Vineweaver’s shoulder.

“More importantly,” Foxhair, who’d been standing behind Shadow, and embracing Stillbreeze. “I believe you are all in good hands with them.”

Not far, on a small cliff that overlooked the same beach that Buren’s father had used to dock his ship and attack the tribe so many years ago, Windfetcher sat, her eyes closed, listening to the rise and fall of the waves, crashing against the stone wall, the smell of the salty sea, filling her peaceful senses; the sound of the waves falling down against the cliffside, the rush of cool air, were all pieces to the peace she found during her meditation.

She didn’t need her wolfblood to smell it.

A big change was on the horizon.

And she wasn’t sure if she would be ready for what it was about to bring.

The twin moons watched that night.

There, near the cliff’s edge, where Shadow often called council when the twin moons were full; he believed that the High Ones were out there still – through the skies and stars – and when the twin moons were full; when they shined the brightest, they might just see their children down below and be proud of what they’ve become.

As Windfetcher climbed up, she was one of the last to arrive. Immediately she noticed that Snowspring was weeping. Windfetcher bit her bottom lip, she could feel tears brimming in her eyes, but she didn’t know why. Everyone was present – Shadow, Foxhair, Snowspring, Stream, Buren, their son – Stonecutter; her mother and father, Stillbreeze and Vineweaver, and her brother, Echo.

So why was Shadow’s daughter, Snowspring crying, and what was the feeling that Windfetcher couldn’t grasp?

It was after Windfetcher had sat, that Shadow dipped his hands in the red ink that Vineweaver had always made from the sap and petals of flowers – as he continued to paint on the stone; a tradition since their original home – a way to see the story, and take from it your own wisdom.

“My closest friend was the chief before me,” Shadow began, as he painted a picture of Wildthorn. “He was my closest friend, and lover, and eventually Recognized my sister. This made our bond deeper than any could understand,” his fingers drew lines connecting the image of Wildthorn to the image of Shadow’s sister, Purespring, to lines connecting her to an image of himself.

“He,” Shadow placed his hand on the still wet image of Wildthorn, “saw my sister – his Recognized – die in his hands – killed by what he believed to be humans. In his mourning and madness, he killed a human woman – innocent in all of this – who was with child. That woman’s mate – a human named Tamier who had come to us seeking peace many moons before – drowning in grief, found Windfetcher and killed him.”

Shadow paused. It’d been so many turns of seasons now, but his heart never healed the gaping wound of losing his sister and his best friend, almost back to back.

“I could not kill him,” Shadow said, his tone low, as he drew a human. “I could not kill Tamier, because I understood what he felt. Why he’d done what he’d done. He’d killed my best friend – but my best friend had killed his wife, who was with child – and had nothing to do with Purespring’s death. We parted that ways that night, understanding what had happened – but also understanding that there would never be peace.”

“We were betrayed by one of our own, whose name I will not speak,” Shadow said, drawing only a faceless elf with black hair. “There was a war between us and the humans – a war that spilled blood, drenched the soil in crimson.

“I needed to get away from what was there,” he drew forest trees, with red ink. “The blood. The war. The death. So I took those that would follow with me – that was everyone. Everyone believed in me that we would find a new home, get a new start.”

“We met the Pridewalkers, and found, even within our own kind; though different, they were poisoned as well,” Shadow drew a lion’s head, and placed his ink covered hands on its forehead. “We were forced to kill our own. To. Kill. Our. Own.” He shook his head. “I lost hope,” he said flatly.

“We left them, taking some with us,” he looked around, “and now it’s only our tribe, and Buren.” His eyes fell on Buren. “Even here, we could not find true peace. Buren’s father, leading a band of marauding humans like we’ve never seen before – towering and tall, savage and fighters – unlike any human we ever encountered, murdered so many of us. There is blood here. There is always blood. Always hatred.”

He shook his head. “Buren offers us a symbol of hope. He stood against his people, risked his own life, denounced his father and his blood, to save a child of ours. And now, he and Stream have a child of their own – Stonecutter – who looks human in his build, and height – but his ears and eyes reveal his elven blood. As always, we have adapted. We have found a way to survive. But I’ve seen so much. And I am old.”

He drew himself and Foxhair, standing apart from the others. “Foxhair and I are leaving. Our cub, Snowspring will remain in the care of Vineweaver and Stillbreeze, and the rest of you. For us, our journey takes us elsewhere.”

He took a deep breath. “We will meet again. But it won’t be here.”

He drew two moons and a palace.

“It will be there,” he concluded.

He took another deep breath. “We have always believed that the Alpha Male is the one to be Chief. That was foolish of us. Today, that changes. Today,” he turned to Windfetcher, “Windfetcher, Chieftess of Stonehowl, will take my place.”

There was only endless sobbing from all, as Shadow and Foxhair, walked next to their wolves; also old, and left under the cover of the moon’s ever watchful gaze.

Shadow hoped that the High Ones were smiling.

After all, he would see them soon.





• Vineweaver (Male Soul Name: Reyk) – Auburn Hair, Blue Eyes (Tree shaper, Soul Mate of Stillbreeze, Plant Shaper)
• Stillbreeze (Female Soul Name: Hewl) – Brown Hair, Brown Eyes (Soul Mate of Vineweaver, Tanner)
• Echo (Male Soul Name: Ayav) – Brown Hair, Green Eyes (Cub of Stillbreeze & Vineweaver, Magic)- About twenty three years old.
• Windfetcher (Female Soul Name: Burm) – Auburn Hair, Brown Eyes (Cub of Stillbreeze & Vineweaver) – About twenty three years old, Chieftess
• Snowspring (Female, Soul Name: Tylo – Black Hair, Green Eyes) – Fourteen years old. Daughter of Shadow and Foxhair.
• Stream (Female Soul Name: Vree) – Red Hair, Green Eyes (Healer)
• Buren (Human, Brown hair, hazel eyes) – About 25 years old in human years
• Stonecutter (half elf/half human, son of Stream and Buren – brown hair, green eyes) – About seven years old

___________________________________________________
August 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc.... Ba_tym10
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Arill3.0

Arill3.0

Pisces Monkey
Posts : 84
Join date : 2020-07-08
Age : 28
Location : Frozen North

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PostSubject: Re: August 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....   August 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc.... EmptyMon Aug 03, 2020 9:17 pm

This is so genuinely moving a beautiful, Tymber. The descriptions of Shadow painting his story for all to see, the drawing of connections and sunderings, were my favorite part. My heart ached when he and Foxhair left, and I haven't even fully caught up with your Stonehowl stories yet! This is my favorite thus far, however.
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Arill3.0

Arill3.0

Pisces Monkey
Posts : 84
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PostSubject: Re: August 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....   August 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc.... EmptyMon Aug 03, 2020 10:30 pm

Here's my offering. Once more it's set in my alternative timeline, this time much farther ahead! Contains mentions of burns, uncontrolled powers, reckless misuse of geology, and an old OC given a new spin (aka an actual personality).

Change
Meditation
Falling down
Innocence
The Sea




Freefall thought she might be able to hide out in the forge, but Master Two-Edge found her and dragged her out the door by the collar of her shirt before she could string together two words in her defense. He set her on her feet at the mouth of the cave and gripped her shoulder with one massive hand, so hard that Freefall lost the feeling down her arm. Master glared down at her.

"A smith of any worth knows to take responsibility for what they have done. Else they are merely a mangler of metal and a grubber of gems." he said, and with that he turned and disappeared back into the forge. Freefall blinked hard, her eyes stinging, but knew he was right. Master always was right; it's why he was a Master.

She ought to go find Father and Uncle and take her thumping like a good Go-Back, as Vaya would say. The fact that she was more of a Sun Villager and a Glider didn't matter; she ought to take her thumping bravely. She more than deserved it.

That memory came up on her again, like a longtooth in the mountain rocks, of Hawkmoon's mocking face twisting into pain, of her screaming and the smell of burning hair and skin, and Freefall really did almost cry right then, but she made herself take a breath and start walking to the Watchtower where she was expected.

Freefall hated walking, more so today than usual, because everyone was looking at her and she could feel them sending. She could catch a word here and there but worked hard to keep her mind to herself, because it was polite and she didn't think she wanted to know what they were saying about her. Especially the Wolfriders. Not for the first or the last time, Freefall fiercely wished Ember and Trinket were still in the Great Holt. Ember was smart, and tough, and could talk her through this. And Trinket was mean, and she'd make a scene until everyone left Freefall alone.

Freefall reached the foot of the Watchtower after what was possibly the longest walk of her life, then stared up the tall flank of the rock formation and the winding stairs shaped into the side and sighed. She began to climb the stairs, one foot in front of the other, and kept her mind on the burn of her muscles and the sound of her breathing and the thump of her heartbeat, because otherwise she'd think of what she did to Hawkmoon.

She'd been thinking of what she did to Hawkmoon every hour of every day for nearly a hand of days now. Leetah had healed her, running to Freefall's terrified sending and Hawkmoon's screaming, and the burns were gone within minutes. But then their parents had come, and Freefall hadn't been allowed near Hawkmoon since.

She hoped she was alright, and that she didn't hate Freefall.

Freefall paused halfway up the side of the stone and glanced around. She was the only one up here, and nobody in the Holt down below was paying attention. She could fly the rest of the way up, land on the last stretch of stairs, and finish walking up with Father none the wiser. She even began to hover as she thought, toes brushing the stone, but she was immediately ashamed of herself.

Landbound was landbound, and it would be dishonorable to shirk the punishment.

Freefall was wheezing by the time she reached the top, and wondered how it was her mothers could bear to walk everywhere all the time. She shook her hair from her face and straightened up, looking for her father and uncle and finding them standing together at the far end of the plateau, neither of them speaking as they looked over the tossing treetops at the sliver of the Vastdeep on the horizon. Freefall approached them on quiet feet and stood with her hands clasped before her, her belly a knot of nerves and shame.

“I’m here, Father. Hallo, Uncle Ekuar.”

Her father glanced over his shoulder at her, and Freefall realized then that he looked tired, looked old. She knew he was the oldest elf in the tribe, maybe the whole world, but she had never really thought much of it because Father was forever doing things, with as much spirit as Cutter or Vaya. He played with her and her agemates, or solved problems with the other chiefs on the Council, or hunted or flew Truestrike over the forest or a thousand other things, and he never seemed old to Freefall until now.

She had never made him feel old, until now.

“I am pleased to see that you are taking being landbound to heart, daughter. Come and sit with us.” He said, sitting down on the bare rock of the Watchtower and helping Uncle Ekuar settle too. Confused, she sat down between Father and Uncle Ekuar, folding her legs and resting her hands on her knees. Father turned to her and fixed her with a serious stare, the kind he used when he was arguing in Council, and she felt suddenly very small.

“What happened a few days ago cannot happen again, child.” Father said, and Freefall flinched.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered, and she wondered if she would ever feel better for saying it.

“I know, little heart.” Father said, and he smiled sadly at her, resting his hand on her hair. “It is not in you to hurt another on purpose.”

“Accidents can still cause harm, however,” Uncle Ekuar said gently. “Believe me, I know!
And we can never truly predict when they will happen. Terribly rude that way, accidents.”

It hadn’t really occurred to Freefall that she might do it again, and she felt bile creeping up her throat at the idea of burning someone else, burning someone worse, Father or Mama or Mother or anybody, or burning the whole of the Holt down, or—

~*Peace, Lelah. Take a deep breath.*~

Father’s mind touched hers, calm and gentle as spring rain, and he breathed slow and deep, keeping his eyes on hers. Freefall took a deep breath and let it out slowly too, again and again until her breathing matched Father’s and it didn’t feel like she was about to retch. Father held her hand, and she felt Uncle Ekuar patting her back.

“Poor fawn. What a frightful time, when one’s powers wake up. I caused a rockslide when I started shaping, you know. Buried the tanning shed, and I never heard the end of it from Mekda.”

Freefall giggled a little, even though it was sad to think of Uncle’s poor friend, and squeezed Father’s hand to let him know she was better.

“Is there anything I can do? To…to keep from doing it again?” she asked, when she trusted her voice.

“That is our purpose here today. We are going to help you learn how to control your gift.” Father told her. Freefall almost melted with relief; someone, at least, knew what to do about her fire-calling.

“How?”

“By looking to the stone, of course.” Uncle Ekuar smiled, his eyes shining. Freefall frowned at him and Father, confused and a bit doubtful.

“What do rocks have to do with burning things?” she asked, narrowing her eyes. Mother had warned her that rockshapers got funny about stones, given enough time and not enough “external social influences”, whatever those were.

“Oh, everything, really. We shall show you.” Uncle said cheerfully, patting her shoulder.

~*Locksend with us. We are going to go out.*~ Father sent, already closing his eyes.
Now Freefall was well and truly lost, but she dutifully closed her eyes and started breathing slowly and evenly. Mother had started teaching her about going out before she left again, but Freefall had never had much luck with it. There was too much going on in her head, ideas for what to make at the forge or odd daydreams that involved carrying water for Newstar or saving her from a longtooth or taking her for rides on her hawk, who she didn’t have yet but she hoped to soon, maybe at the next hatching if she could get Kureel to loosen up—

~*Focus, Lelah.*~

~*Sorry, Father.*~

With her father’s help Freefall eventually got her mind to go quiet, and she stepped back and out from her shell, into the dark place beyond all places. It was cold and blank, but Father and Uncle shone like stars in the nothingness, and Freefall flew to meet them and take their spirit hands.

~*Well done, baby bird!*~Uncle sent, and smiled so proudly at her that Freefall didn’t fume at the use of the old name of her babyhood.

**Thank you! It went much better this time, didn’t it? What do we do next?**

Father and Uncle exchanged a look, and then dove down through the dark, bringing Freefall with them. She yelled soundlessly, delighted, as they all plunged down, down, down into the waking world, down into the rock of the Watchtower beneath them and beyond, deep into the rich soil of the Holt and the bedrock far below.

**Let us start here. Ekuar? You are far more knowledgeable than I, dear one; guide us, if it pleases you.** Father sent, his spirit staying close to hers in the solidness of the rock. Ekuar laughed silently, the nonsound travelling through the rock.

**Such flattery, my handsome friend! But yes, let us begin. Young one, consider this rock around us. What do you notice?**

Freefall looked with spirit eyes, with rockshaper eyes, and saw far into the stone around them, not the dull stuff she had originally assumed but rather an expanse made up of uncountable tiny crystals, locked together to hold up the world. Old, older than Father and Ekuar together, maybe older than everyone in the Great Tribe put together, the stone was nonetheless young around them, practically lively.

**It…I don’t think it was always this way. It was something else, not very long ago.**

**Very good.** Father told her, and she felt his smile for leagues through the rock.

**This is relatively youthful, as rocks go. Solid and steady as it is now, our Watchtower was once rather more volatile. Let us go a little farther afield. My Lord?**

Father tugged at her and led them away through the rock, far under the Holt and forest until Freefall felt the rumbling of the Vastdeep above. They followed the stone as it plunged downward into the crushing depths of the sea, farther than any elf could hope to go, and their stretch of stone was in fact only a piece of the world, not the whole of it. Their rock met another vast plate of stone and tucked beneath it, disappearing inside the world itself.

**Be ready, little heart. It is going to be very hot, but it cannot hurt us.**

Before she could ask what he meant they all sank down into the place where the two stone plates met, crushed between the impossible weight of them and dragged down into a place of terrible heat. All was red and burning, far hotter than the flames that answered to Freefall’s moods, and the stone they traveled through melted like ice beneath the sun. Freefall screamed, certain her very soul would be burned away but Father held her fast and shielded her from the worst of it, and Ekuar talked lightly to her until her spirit could bear the blazing heart of the world.

**All is well, young one. Look! Here is the birthplace of stone.**

Freefall turned her face from her father’s shoulder and looked, and she saw the stone sink and melt and cycle in the forge-heart of Abode, carried up again to places unknown. Stone becoming like water, to pour and flow and cascade out onto the surface again, to become stone anew. The molten rock could cause terrible harm and wonderful change if it got out, whole mountains torn apart and lands built up by the power of it, but it was held safely in check by countless layers of good strong stone, locked together and forever transforming.

**Do you see, little heart? Do you understand?**

Freefall thought she did, at least a little.

**That’s what I need.** she sent to them and to the great forge and to herself. **I must have some rock to hold me and shape me. Could you help me?**

**Gladly, baby bird.**

**Always.**

__________________________________________________________________________
Note: "Lelah" is Freefall's birth name, but not her soulname. She just did something very stupid when she was younger and the name stuck. She has the old fire-making power, but has very little control of over it just yet, especially when she's scared or angry. Hawkmoon's fine, and sneaks into Freefall's room later on so they can have a proper talk without their parents shouting over them.

The Great Holt mentioned here is a conglomerate of all four known elf tribes, with the tentatively aligned King Picknose's troll kingdom beneath them. They are somewhere in the big tracts of forest surrounding Blue Mountain, but that's about as much as I know at the moment.

This was going to be way longer, but it was feeling like filler so I cut it here. Freefall's dad absolutely makes her climb back down the 500 or so stairs shaped into the Watchtower, because he did his time as a teenager and by the stars his daughter will serve her time in turn.
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Tymber

Tymber

Posts : 879
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PostSubject: Re: August 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....   August 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc.... EmptyTue Aug 04, 2020 12:43 am

@Arill3.0 wrote:
This is so genuinely moving a beautiful, Tymber. The descriptions of Shadow painting his story for all to see, the drawing of connections and sunderings, were my favorite part. My heart ached when he and Foxhair left, and I haven't even fully caught up with your Stonehowl stories yet! This is my favorite thus far, however.

Thank you. As I wrote this, I felt like I was saying farewell to two friends, who'd been with me since I started doing these.

Because these have always been "grab bag" challenges, I always try to write them in less than an hour's time (including breaks and such), so I don't feel like I ever truly developed any of the characters; and so many of them have reflections of actual ElfQuest characters (Shadow reminds of Cutter, Vineweaver of Redlance - he was even captured and ready to be sacrificed, in a similar fashion to Redlance, Stillbreeze reminds me of Nightfall, who is also Vineweaver's mate, Windfetcher and Echo feel like knock offs of Ember & Suntop - with Windfetcher even wanting to be Chieftess like Ember; and Echo having powers like Suntop). I don't think any of that was consciously on purpose - but it certainly can't be denied - typically these things came about due to the evolution of an ongoing story driven by random topics of grab bags... but I feel like I could have definitely done a better job of making these characters stand out more on their own rather than feeling like imitations of existing characters. I think only Vineweaver and Stillbreeze may have intentionally been similar to Redlance & Nightfall, because they were my favorites in ElfQuest, and this was my way to "write them" in my own stories. Granted, they did a number of things that made them different - but the comparisons/similarities to their core concepts are undeniable.

So if I plan to continue this (and I may not, I may end it here, and either do something new going forward or something) - but if I do continue this, I want to explore making those that have remained really stand out on their own.

The one thing I will say; that I think I did right was making my Elves, who have wolf blood live in caves as a preference, as wolves live in dens rather than trees. Wolfriders living in trees, when I got older, always struck me as odd. Neither wolf nor elf, were inclined to live in trees (if you look at wolves and the High Ones). So it's weird that they had that inkling, other than a tree shaper perhaps making that easier to stay out of the reach of humans.

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Tymber

Tymber

Posts : 879
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PostSubject: Re: August 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....   August 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc.... EmptyTue Aug 04, 2020 1:01 am

@Arill3.0 wrote:

Here's my offering. Once more it's set in my alternative timeline, this time much farther ahead! Contains  mentions of burns, uncontrolled powers, reckless misuse of geology, and an old OC given a new spin (aka an actual personality).
Freefall thought she might be able to hide out in the forge, but Master Two-Edge found her and dragged her out the door by the collar of her shirt before she could string together two words in her defense. He set her on her feet at the mouth of the cave and gripped her shoulder with one massive hand, so hard that Freefall lost the feeling down her arm. Master glared down at her.

Is Freefall that OC, or is this another obscure character in ElfQuest that's elluded me? Smile

@Arill3.0 wrote:

"A smith of any worth knows to take responsibility for what they have done. Else they are merely a mangler of metal and a grubber of gems." he said, and with that he turned and disappeared back into the forge. Freefall blinked hard, her eyes stinging, but knew he was right. Master always was right; it's why he was a Master.

This is a cool little line.

@Arill3.0 wrote:

She ought to go find Father and Uncle and take her thumping like a good Go-Back, as Vaya would say. The fact that she was more of a Sun Villager and a Glider didn't matter; she ought to take her thumping bravely. She more than deserved it.

I am not kidding, even before I got past the elements - I saw "Vaya" and got excited. Tease!

@Arill3.0 wrote:

Freefall hated walking, more so today than usual, because everyone was looking at her and she could feel them sending.

So I am picking up she's a Glider, and that is why she hates walking... can she not glide?

@Arill3.0 wrote:

Freefall paused halfway up the side of the stone and glanced around. She was the only one up here, and nobody in the Holt down below was paying attention. She could fly the rest of the way up, land on the last stretch of stairs, and finish walking up with Father none the wiser. She even began to hover as she thought, toes brushing the stone, but she was immediately ashamed of herself.

Well that answers whether or not she can glide. lol

I guess, I am not sure why walking is the only option?

@Arill3.0 wrote:

“I’m here, Father. Hallo, Uncle Ekuar.”

Her father glanced over his shoulder at her, and Freefall realized then that he looked tired, looked old. She knew he was the oldest elf in the tribe, maybe the whole world, but she had never really thought much of it because Father was forever doing things, with as much spirit as Cutter or Vaya. He played with her and her agemates, or solved problems with the other chiefs on the Council, or hunted or flew Truestrike over the forest or a thousand other things, and he never seemed old to Freefall until now.

Again with the Vaya tease!


@Arill3.0 wrote:

“Poor fawn. What a frightful time, when one’s powers wake up. I caused a rockslide when I started shaping, you know. Buried the tanning shed, and I never heard the end of it from Mekda.”

I love this little bit! This was a nice little touch to really give Ekaur.

Won't quote the whole bit - but the "voyage" she takes with her father and Ekaur is wonderfully detailed! <3

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PostSubject: Re: August 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....   August 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc.... EmptyTue Aug 04, 2020 9:11 pm

Tymber I'm so glad you liked this so much! Yes, Freefall is the OC. And she is a Glider-- her walking/being landbound is basically the Glider equivalent of grounding a teenager. Seeing as she set someone on fire during an argument (albeit accidentally), some form of punishment is necessary.

Did I really get Ekuar? I was so worried I didn't have his voice down! I'm glad that part rang true at least. And I just now realized that I had Freefall and the others literally go on a journey to the center of the earth. Jules Verne would be proud! I'm glad the journey wasn't tedious; I've been having fun writing about things like geology and anatomy from the perspectives of rockshapers and healers respectively, but I realize others might not find that as fascinating as I do.

Re:Vaya:...she may show up sooner rather than later. We shall see.

I really hope you do eventually continue to work with and flesh out your Stonehowl Holt elves; your pieces are short but amazingly immersive, and I liked that these elves are still so distinct from the Wolfriders of Canon, even if you initially borrowed a bit from them. And, yeah, I really do think caves are more wolflike. If they were descended from wild cats it might make more sense to live in trees, lol.
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Redhead Ember

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PostSubject: Re: August 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....   August 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc.... EmptyWed Aug 05, 2020 9:37 am

It Takes a Tumble

There you sit, meditating
on the layers of the Egg; ever-changing, like the sea.
Then an innocent prank is played,
and it all
starts to
fall down…


Yes! I managed to put two themes in one line!

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Tymber

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PostSubject: Re: August 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....   August 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc.... EmptyWed Aug 05, 2020 1:51 pm

@Arill3.0 wrote:

Tymber I'm so glad you liked this so much! Yes, Freefall is the OC. And she is a Glider-- her walking/being landbound is basically the Glider equivalent of grounding a teenager. Seeing as she set someone on fire during an argument (albeit accidentally), some form of punishment is necessary.

Ah! OK. I would have made that more clear - that she was landbound as a form of punishment. Because you mention how she hates walking, but I hadn't pieced together why she was walking - if she was a Glider - and had the internal thought process of saying she hated it.

@Arill3.0 wrote:

Did I really get Ekuar? I was so worried I didn't have his voice down! I'm glad that part rang true at least.

I thought you did. Sounded very much how he spoke to Rayek.

@Arill3.0 wrote:

And I just now realized that I had Freefall and the others literally go on a journey to the center of the earth. Jules Verne would be proud! I'm glad the journey wasn't tedious; I've been having fun writing about things like geology and anatomy from the perspectives of rockshapers and healers respectively, but I realize others might not find that as fascinating as I do.

Ah, I thought the journey to the center of the Earth vibe of the journey was intentional. Like, being a glider - (a tie to Blue Mountain) - getting to the "roots" of the stone.

@Arill3.0 wrote:

Re:Vaya:...she may show up sooner rather than later. We shall see.

Nightfall is my love, from ElfQuest. Vaya would have been my "tumble in the sheets" woman. Very Happy

@Arill3.0 wrote:

I really hope you do eventually continue to work with and flesh out your Stonehowl Holt elves; your pieces are short but amazingly immersive, and I liked that these elves are still so distinct from the Wolfriders of Canon, even if you initially borrowed a bit from them. And, yeah, I really do think caves are more wolflike. If they were descended from wild cats it might make more sense to live in trees, lol.

I may do that - I think, subconsciously perhaps - that's why I deconstructed them this time around. To narrow down the members and be able to focus more, if that's what I end up doing.

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PostSubject: Re: August 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....   August 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc.... EmptyWed Aug 05, 2020 1:52 pm

@Redhead Ember wrote:
It Takes a Tumble
There you sit, meditating
on the layers of the Egg; ever-changing, like the sea.
Then an innocent prank is played,
and it all
starts to
fall down…

Very clear image. I assume this is when Pike gives Egg dreamberry wine.

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PostSubject: Re: August 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....   August 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc.... EmptyWed Aug 05, 2020 2:21 pm

It is indeed. My - I think - first ever attempt at visual poetry, but maybe not the last.
And I didn't even realise - at first - that I'd include the change element in the same line as the sea element.


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PostSubject: Re: August 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....   August 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc.... EmptyFri Aug 07, 2020 1:42 am

A DAUGHTER'S PRIDE, A SON'S PLAN, A MOTHER'S VENGEANCE.


It is not as hard as she imaged, the dying.

She’s suffered worse pain from lesser wounds and now there is nothing more to fear.

The troll king’s shouts change, and soften, as she slips into a sea of shimmering images. His face changes, a Palace appears.

She feels herself falling down gently, like a feather, towards the palace. All the war. All the bloodshed. It all fades away, and she’s embraced by an inner sense of peace as she seems to meditate and restores her innocence that she never knew at the hands of a mother like Kahvi.

Gutterkraw, kind of the ice trolls, snarls. “Get it out of my sight! Through it away! She shall not even have the honor of providing me with nourishment!”

Vaya’s body is left on a pile of bones, and not a single troll casts a glance at her as they march for her home.

After the soldiers passed, another stepped out from the looming shadows. Though he was built like a troll, his ears were pointed like an elf. “The guards have left, and you remain, asleep on a pillow of rotting skulls.”

He stood and looked down at Vaya, “Gutterkraw thinks you are dead, girl. But we know better, you and I. You still want to stick the knife in, don’t you? I thought so.” He leaned down, smiled, gently caressing Vaya’s still body as he picked her up.

He carried her to a wall and hit an ornate stone snake head, with his metal hammer, “Serpent hiss! Sand pour! Come down stone and close the door!”

Two-Edge laid Vaya down next to another figure. “I’ve brought you something, mother.” He spoke the words harshly. The tall, pale figure, looked up from her long, black, locks of hair.

Winnowill, whose body was still broken from the fall she’d taken looked down at the unfamiliar female.

Two-Edge had nursed Winnowill back to health, though her right arm was still badly broken, shattered in the fall. He had only helped her because she had finally agreed to show Two-Edge where his father’s bones had been located. They’d been hidden in plain sight all along – inside the middle of the ever changing Egg.

“It doesn’t matter who she is,” Two-Edge growled. “Heal her, now.”

“She’s dead,” Winnowill hissed at her son.

“You know you can do it,” Two-Edge growled. “We’re just beneath the Palace. You can feel its magic surging through you. The High Ones were immortal, as long as they could access the magic of the Palace. Bring her back.”

Winnowill had done many questionable things all her life. She’d always been in control. She loathed being at the mercy of Two-Edge; she knew if she tried to escape he would find her and crush her right arm even further. She’d done much worse to him, long ago. Perhaps she deserved this fate, and all the things that had been happening to her – all leading to her fall.

She placed her hand on Vaya and began to heal.

She reached out with her mind – touched the Palace – and there, she could see Vaya’s spirit – it was with others – others that Winnowill did not recognize – and there, seated at a table – Lord Voll – her own love mate from long ago! He had perished! And there, not far – another she recognized – it was the Wolfrider with the patch…

Suddenly Vaya looked. She could feel a presence lingering.

Just above her, a hovering black snake – whose fangs buried themselves into her chest.

And with that Vaya, suddenly sat up, screaming.

Her wounds were gone.

She looked at Two-Edge then Winnowill – neither of which she recognized.

“Who are you? What happened?”

TO BE CONTINUED?




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Tymber

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PostSubject: Re: August 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....   August 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc.... EmptyFri Aug 07, 2020 7:18 pm

Resurrection of Vaya in an image....

August 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc.... Resurrectionofvaya_sm

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PostSubject: Re: August 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....   August 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc.... EmptyMon Aug 10, 2020 11:21 pm

I AM HERE FOR THIS TYMBER I AM VERY EXCITED.

I am perhaps a little too invested in the idea of Winnowill at Two-Edge's mercy...I personally would have liked to see some sort of confrontation, some formal sense of closure in his relationship with his mother. (Though the Canon storyline, where he defies her even when he is deathly afraid of her, and slowly learns to trust others with himself, and to find where he fits among other...there's beauty in this too, and perhaps more realism)

ANYWAY I LOVE THIS AND WOULD LOVE TO SEE MORE.
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Tymber

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PostSubject: Re: August 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....   August 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc.... EmptyTue Aug 11, 2020 2:58 pm

@Arill3.0 wrote:
I AM HERE FOR THIS TYMBER I AM VERY EXCITED.

I am perhaps a little too invested in the idea of Winnowill at Two-Edge's mercy...I personally would have liked to see some sort of confrontation, some formal sense of closure in his relationship with his mother. (Though the Canon storyline, where he defies her even when he is deathly afraid of her, and slowly learns to trust others with himself, and to find where he fits among other...there's beauty in this too, and perhaps more realism)

ANYWAY I LOVE THIS AND WOULD LOVE TO SEE MORE.

Hah. I have no idea where I would go with it, to be honest.

Like why Two-Edge would want Vaya saved...

But who knows. Next month, the right Grab Bag Elements might inspire something. Smile

I had to crunch down the image so it didn't stretch the forum - but the original one I did is here -
https://2img.net/h/tawmis.com/downloads/resurrectionofvaya.png

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PostSubject: Re: August 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....   August 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc.... EmptyTue Aug 11, 2020 3:18 pm

Roll with the elements, Tymber! Like

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